Am I Enough?
by Godly Apple Juice
Summary: Romano is running, wondering if he is worth something to be ran after for.


Am I Enough?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Hetalia, or its characters.

**A/N:** I always wanted to run away when I was little, because I felt unwanted and unneeded. Then my mother, as loving as always –SARCASM-, locked me outside after I bragged that I could do better without her. Granted, I was hurt and scared (After all, I was only six ;-;), but I knew I couldn't live without her at that moment in time. She let me back in after ten minutes of me screaming and crying at the door for her let to me back in….Yeah, a little fragment of my life that you people probably have _no_ interest in reading about.

Enjoy.

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Romano was running, his breath coming in short, heaving gasps. His feet ached. His chest hurt. His eyes stung with unshed tears. Soggy air clung to him, the thick fog licking at the soles of his bare feet, which were bleeding by the ground he ran on.

Finally, after a few more minutes of intense running, Romano stumbled. He fell to his knees, and he finally noticed that he wasn't on cement anymore, but rather hard ground, which was covered in slightly damp dirt. After a minute of staying in that position, he fell to his side with a groan.

He guessed he could rest for a few minutes. This was all Spain's stupid fault; his drunken ass and his stupid friends. Romano also wanted to blame his little brother, but he knew that Veneziano had _nothing_ to do with it.

It all started when the so called _Bad Touch Trio_ arrived at his house, which he shared with his little brother. That stupid potato bastard was there as well, trying to convince the two Italians to drive a _little_ bit slower than _average_. Knocking occurred, and Veneziano ran to get it.

His stupid little brother led a drunken trio in, all of them carrying a heated air of ecstatic delight. All of them were laughing, their laughter a bit too loud and a bit _too _merry to be real. A faint smell of alcohol and wine followed them.

For some stupid reason, all Romano could remember of the time that they've been in their house was when Spain was talking about how Romano was when he was younger, much to Romano's embarrassed irritation. Then, he said something that made Romano's heart freeze, his blood running cold, as time seemed to slow suddenly.

"You know, mi amigos, that I wanted to trade Romano for little Ita-chan once."

Time gradually sped up back to regular time, laughter ringing faintly in his ears. Romano's heart beat in time with his frantic thoughts, painfully hard and loud. When he could finally find himself to concentrate on their current topic, they had moved onto a totally different subject.

With silent steps, Romano removed himself from the room. He could feel Germany's analyzing, and understanding stare following him. He could feel his brother's sad, and silent pleading stare beg him to stay and tell him what's wrong.

Romano retreated to his room. Shutting the door and locking it, he finally let out a breath that seemed to strum a painful string in Romano's chest, as he let himself fall to the floor. He stayed like that, doubled over in emotional turmoil, for a few minutes.

He _knew_ it. He knew that Spain didn't want him! And yet, he let himself actually _care_ about that tomato bastard! What a fool Romano was! "I hate him. I hate him. I hate him…" Romano whispered over and over, his mind and emotions trying to sort themselves out.

The nation wanted to hate Spain; he wanted to despise him with all his being. But he couldn't. Romano wanted to hate Spain, but deep inside, he knew he could do no such thing. He may want to despise Spain, but he knew that he couldn't.

He knew that he was going to be kept on getting hurt by Spain, but he couldn't bring himself to ignore the Spaniard.

Romano was confused. Utterly confused, and very angry, angry with Spain, angry with himself, angry with everyone he ever met. Every felt complicated to him, and he just wanted to run away from it all. To get away, and not deal with it anymore, just wipe his hands clean.

As Romano was finally getting a grip, knocking was heard on his door. "Roma! Como estas?" Spain's slurred voice entered the room, and Romano flinched. Emotions shouted things, running astray. Romano wanted to yell at Spain.

_Go away! I hate you! Leave me alone!_

Romano didn't say any of those things, no. He only stared at the door a little while longer, the knocking never ending. Then, he scrambled upright and more of ran to the window. Without a second thought, he opened the glass that separated him from the foggy world outside, and jumped.

He landed with a small thud, and he ignored the pain that shot through his body. He started running.

Romano didn't know why he was running, now that he thought about it. Maybe he was running to get away from _them, _from Spain. Maybe he was running to relieve frustration with the world. Maybe he just _was running _away from his emotions.

Maybe if he ran far enough, and long enough, someone will run after him.

With a groan escaping his lungs, Romano forced himself upward. He stumbled when he got on his aching legs that were begging him to stop, and he continued running, a single thought in mind as he continued his forced journey, while his hopes and heart were praying for someone to come after him.

_Am I enough to be loved yet? Am I worth something to be chased after when I run away?_

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_Review, Favorite, or whatever you do on stories that you read._

_-_BMTM


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